Draco Malfoy and the Quest of Knowledge
by Siriuslyfun19212
Summary: Draco is out of hair gel and must pogo his way to the store. Once there, he is asked: Paper or Plastic. Now Draco must find out the meaning behind that! Chapter two up!
1. Hair Gel and Pogo Sticks

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Trust me.

Author Notes: Well, this is the first chapter. It's very odd, and I have no idea where the plot (if you could call it that) came from.  
Enjoy, and please review at the bottom.

Summary: One day, Lucius has a dinner-party, and Draco needs hair gel for that, of course. But--oh no--he is out! What will he do? Well, he goes to a muggle store, of course! But, what happens when he arrives there? After successfully finding his gel, and going to the register, the cashier asks a rather odd question... "Paper or Plastic?" So follow Draco, as he tries to discover more about.... "Paper or Plastic?" In 'Draco Malfoy and the Quest of Knowledge!"

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Draco Malfoy and the Quest of Knowledge

"Draco! Honey! Your father's dinner guests will be arriving shortly! Please make sure you are ready!" called Narcissa Malfoy. The Malfoy's were having their usual party, in which Lucius invited some "Dinner guests" and they all acted like those stupid family gits who are on drugs all the time. You know the ones that are on TV.

"Coming, mother!" Draco yelled back, gliding back like some sort of bird. He was going to his bathroom, where he would get some of his hair gel, and then paste it on his hair like some sort of protective shield-thingy. He did that everyday, even the days when no one saw him; it didn't matter, though. On those days, he just admired his hair in the mirror.

He stepped into the bathroom, and then pulled open the drawer, sticking his hand in and grabbing his bottle of gel. He opened it, and squeezed some into his hand. He then put it onto his hair.

He admired the left side of hid head for five minutes or so, before he remembered that he was on a time schedule. He squeezed the bottle again and then put it on his hair. But, oh no!

The bottle was empty! Draco pulled the bottle up to his eye and looked at it, eyes wide.

"Oh no!" he dropped the bottle and backed up, eyes wide like saucers. He looked into the mirror, and to his horror, saw that his hair no longer looked half-sexy, it looked... it looked... oh, it looked horrible! The right side of his head had unruly blonde hair, like that Potter kid, just... not... black. The left side of his head looked like a gigantic plaster, as it slowly turned an ugly brown colour from gel-deprivation.

Draco closed his eyes, and opened them, hoping... no, begging, that this was all some horrid dream. He moaned in distress as he realised that it wasn't.

He quickly grabbed a cloak and ran out of his room. He needed hair gel, and it was much too late to order by owl. He quickly snuck out of the house and into the front yard, which was just adorable. Narcissa had put a cute little statue of puppies playing, and a kitten looking at them with a grimace in her eye, as she played with her pretty pink ball of string. There was a lone bush out in the middle of the yard, with a water fountain right next to it, a gigantic plum spitting out water; Draco never really got why Narcissa had water spit from a plum, but she obviously did.

He ran down the driveway, a clear determination clear in his left eye--you see, there was so much hair covering his right eye that no one was really sure about what showed in that eye. Possibly pain, because you must know that having have a head of hair gelled and the rest of it not is quite a pain.

He ran around the corner, before stopping at the bus stop. He noticed a few muggles there--idiots. They were all staring at his head with a mixture of disdain and amusement on their stupid muggle faces.

Draco attempted to sneer--and he failed. He found that without gelled hair he could not sneer as much. It was as if his confidence had an axe slammed into it.

The bus eventually came, and the group boarded the bus--all except Draco. The entire bus was looking out their window, hopeful to see his stupid-looking hair. He snarled, before turning around and walking into a random person's yard. He looked for a garage, and once he saw it, he grinned. He walked up to it and opened the door with a click of the handy button on the side of the door. It opened and he walked in. He looked for something that might help-- a bike, a scooter... but no. He could not see anything that could be of any help to him.

And then he spotted the one and only thing that would help him.

A pogo stick.

Draco's eyes widened, and he almost thought about turning back around, but as he reached the garage entry, he realised something.

No gel equals no gelled hair, and no gelled hair equals angry dinner guests.

Defeated, Draco turned around, glared at the stupid stick of stupidity, and then dragged it to the rode. He stared at it for a long moment or two, before finally get onto it, bouncing away. And it was fun!

"Wheeeeeee!" he yelled in triumph, sticking his hand in the air. This proved to be only a mistake, as he lost his balance and fell over.

"Oh, darn," Draco said in hate, staring at the dirty ground. He quickly got up, and continued bouncing his way down the road.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. SCREEEECH! Crash!

"Ow!" Draco fell over off his pogo stick, and stared around wildly, looking for the source of commotion. He spotted a bar--or whatever it was-- in a ditch, smoke emitting from the front of it.

"Stupid muggles," Draco muttered to himself, before getting up again and hopping away.

In what seemed like hours, but was really only three minutes, he found himself in front of a convenient store. He looked at the stupid sign of stupidity that read "Open 24 Hrs!" before walking in.

The building looked like a stupid building of stupidity. There were little aisles all over the place, with odd looking muggle things on them. He would never find hair gel in this place! But he must... he must do it for Daddy.

He walked over to someone who looked way too peppy to be normal (but then again, he was a muggle,) and asked him where to go.

"Where may I find hair gel?" Draco asked in a polite tone.

"Aisle twenty-three!" yelled the shopkeeper. Judging by the fact that no one turned around to see what the source of noise was, Draco took that as a sign that the odd little man did that very often.

"Er... thanks." And Draco then walked down the hallway, looking for aisle twenty-three.

And he found it!

He pogo-ed into the aisle, looking for some hair gel.

"Shampoo... conditioner... balm... Bounceable Bouncedy Hair Bounce®... ah, here it is!" and he grabbed a bottle of hair gel. He pogo-ed back out of the aisle (and succeeded in knocking over four people) and then went up to the cashier, pulling out--five pounds? He never had muggle money! Where did that come from?

"HELLO!" screamed the woman. Draco fell over. WHY was EVERYBODY at that stupid store so peppy?! Draco stood up, and stared at the woman, trying to look fierce, despite his horrible, disfigured hair.

"Three pounds," the odd woman spoke. Draco handed over the money, and she gave him his change back.

"Will that be paper or plastic?" she asked.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

"Would you like paper or plastic?"

Draco stared.

"What do you mean, 'Paper or plastic?'"

The woman's smiling never faultered, but instead, she leaned down and with an almighty tug, she brought up the large basket Draco had ever seen in his life... and that was counting when his mother had had her candle phase; Narcissa would bring home gigantic baskets full of nothing but candles, and then put them all over Malfoy mansion; Lucius didn't like this too much, and spent a noticeable amount of more time outside with "The Gang." The Gang, of course, being his pack of Death Eaters. On one desperate night, when the bar was closed, they went to a "Santa on Ice!" show. Ah... desperate times.

But that's another story.

Anyway, the woman looked into the bag, and searched around a bit, before pulling out what looked like thirty different bags, all made of a different material.

"You know, you are the only one in sixteen years who has asked what it meant to have paper or plastic," she commented, as she sorted through the bags. Draco pulled up his sleeve, and stared at his wrist, before tapping his foot with an impatient jingle. The odd cashier didn't get it at all.

Finally, after about five minutes, the cashier pulled aside five bags.

"These are our more popular bags," she said, pointed them.

She picked up a multicoloured one that read "FREAKY!" on it.

"This one is our 'Funkadelic Shopper' bag."

She picked up a boring blue one next.

"This is vinyl."

The bag she showed him looked like a really cheap type of rubber. And it was blue -- it reminded him of those know-it-all Ravenclaws. Stupids.

She pulled next a glittery type.

"This is a decorated bag, made out of brick and then thinned down to a bag."

Draco raised his eyes.

"And then, of course, we have the regular old paper and plastic bags."  
She pointed to a brown paper bag and a plastic bag, too.

"Take your book, there are thirty-four types."

Draco pointed to the paper. "That one!" he said, rather enthusiasticly. The lady looked at him in dissapoint.

"Are you sure you don't want..." she pulled out another one."Latex? Or rubber? Or maybe even..." she blinked a bit, "flesh?"

Draco blinked himself, and stared at her.

"You're nuts!" and he grabbed his gel, his pogo stick, and ran out of the store.

"DENTAL FLOOOOOSS!" the lady shrieked, chasing after him, but Draco hopped away on his pogo stick... never to be seen again.

Draco, as he hopped away on his pogo stick, thought about how sexy he would look with properly gelled hair. He smiled in glee.

"I will have, so sexy gelled hair!" he sung in a deep voice unlike his own; think green frog that sings. "Sexy gelled hair I will have!"

He hopped like he was dancing.

"I can see you neighbours dreaming!" he swung around on the pogo stick. "I know you want to get with meeeeeee!"

He jumped off the pogo stick and began dancing in the street.

"Hey you! Sexy young woman! Why do look like you're dreeeeamiiiiing? Duh nuh!"

He jumped around, and began swinging on a lamppost.

"Don't sing in the rain, when that will only blame to be...."

He jumped off the lamppost, and hopped a bit on his feet.

"The demise of my sexy gelled hair!"

Draco thought he could faintly hear the sound of trumpets, but that only fused him to dance and sing some more.

"Hey you! Young child cryiiiing!" he kneeled down, and gazed at his pogo stick. "Why are you so gluuuuum?"

He jumped up and began dancing again. "Duh nuh, duh nuh, duh duh da da ta..." he sang joyfully.

"If you, young child crying, gaze at my hair, my sexy sexy hair..." he paused, stopped, and looked up to the sky. "You will have some fun!"

"Duh nuh, duh nuh, duh duh da da ta!"

"Hey you! Look at me! Don't I look so incredibly..." he paused. "Seeeeeexy!" he ripped of his shirt, and began doing a dance between the cancan and an arm-jig.

"Hey! You! Young boy! Stop dancing half-naked in the streets! It isn't humane!" called an elderly woman, as she came outside to investigate the noise.

Draco ran up to the woman.

"Hey, you! Elderly woman, yes you, elderly woman, why won't you, dance with me, yes, yes, yes..." he paused again. "Seeeeexyyyyy meeeeeee!"

He began to dance again.

"I'm calling the cops!" the woman yelled. Draco suddenly stopped, and thought.

_Cops bad impression on dinner guests. Bad impression angry daddy. Eep. Must go home now._

He grabbed his ripped shirt, and hopped away again, on his pogo stick.

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Please review!


	2. So Ugly

Author Notes: After realising that I had forgotten to grammar/spell check chapter two, I took down this chapter and fixed it. So here it is.

Disclaimer: Unless otherwise noted at some point or another, this disclaimer will be the disclaimer for the rest of the story. Also, this disclaimer is the disclaimer from 

This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Read on! And PLEASE REVIEW!

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Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. Bounce. TWEEP! Plop.

"Ow!" Draco found himself, once again, on the ground. He was hopping his merry little way back to Malfoy Mansion when a rabbit ran out into the road, and Draco fell over. The rabbit squeaked, and then ran off. The selfish rabbit didn't even check to see if he was okay.

He got himself up, and picked up both the pogo stick and the bottle of gel. He looked around, in case there were any other stray rabbits running loose, which could be the demise of his skin. In other words, he could bleed very much badly if the rabbits knocked him over again. He didn't really want that, especially with his father's dinner party so close.

The dinner party!

"Oh, no!" Draco yelled, as he began hopping again.

He had successfully gotten away from the crazy old lady who wanted to turn him into the pops, but thanks to himself, while he was caught up in the moment, he ripped his shirt, so was now shirtless, hopping on a pogo stick, half naked. He was surprised that nobody else had come out, threatening to call the stokeys... or, whatever they were called. He didn't have time to study stupid muggle stuff.

He hopped. The road was growing longer, and the sky was growing darker. Or maybe he was just high. He wasn't sure, maybe that crazy old cashier had really affected him was some sort of crazy poison. She was a muggle, so he may never know, but he did suspect it. Why else would he be high? It couldn't possibly be the hair gel, could it? Maybe it was the rabbit.

Yes, it was the rabbit.

He continued down the road, looking for a sign of Malfoy Mansion, and not seeing it yet, he thought he might think.

But what could he think about? He didn't know anything that was of any interest to him, so he now had to think about what he would think about. This was much more difficult than it sounded, mind you.

Hmm. Maybe he would think about how mad his father would be when he came home, all bloody from falling off of a pogo stick. Maybe the thought of knocking down those demonic statues in the front yard.

Or...

Maybe he could think about why stores were so obsessed with the idea of paper and plastic.

Yes! That was a brilliant think to think about!

So, why would a store ask if they wanted paper or plastic? It just wasn't logical! When you give somebody something from a store, you need to know him or her to an extent, so that way, you don't even need to ask them anything! You need to automatically know!

Bounce. Bounce.

So why would that crazy cashier ask? She should have just asked his preferences, and then worked from there. She had no right to ask. She was a worker, who got paid money to work. She wasn't getting paid for asking questions.

But then again, she was a muggle.

Now, Draco wasn't the smartest building block in the Tonka box, but he was pretty sure that he was right on this one. Any self-respecting cashier should just realise that they are inferior to the customer (or Draco, more like) and back down; they should just be the snivelling little kiss-ups and be done with it!

But, the paper and plastic issue did bother him a bit. What was the point? If they didn't ask preferences, then they should have just guessed and hoped they didn't get sacked! Sheesh, muggles were _idiots._

Bounce. Bounce.

Finally, Draco could see Malfoy Mansion. Ooh... he just hoped that the "Dinner guests" weren't there yet.

Shuffle, shuffle. Push. Swing. Plip, plip, pliiiiiiip. Trip. Flop.

"Ow!" Draco whispered to himself. He didn't know why; since there wasn't anybody around him, there wasn't anybody to hear him, so therefore, nobody to come to his every need.

Not like they didn't already do that, he was just saying it for his dramatic need.

He had the hair gel in his hands, so he quickly slipped into the bathroom, and looked at himself. He said only two words once he saw himself: "Aaaah, dangit."

Draco knew that he looked worse than he was letting himself know, but decided against shaking in fear.

POOF! Smoke. Smoke was disappearing, slowly. A house elf was there, a finger pointing at him accusingly.

"Me thinks you naughty boy!" the house elf claimed. "Me thinks you need to be punished!"

Draco laughed.

"And what are you going to do?"

The house elf smiled evilly, before kicking him in the groin.

"Me knows you no do no-no no more. For this I am sure." And then the little brat disappeared.

"Crimedy!" Draco exclaimed, hopping up and down on his foot.

"Draco! Are you all right?"

Draco heard his mother call. He looked at the door in disbelievement; She hears him say 'crimedy' but doesn't hear a big poof of smoke?

"Oh, mother, I'm just lovely!" He called back to her.

"Oh, okay, Draco! Be down in five minutes!"  
"Yes, yes I will!"

"You're such a _good_ boy!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"And by the way, Drakkie, I ordered pie!"

Draco's world stopped. "Pie?" he called down hopefully.

"Yes, baby, pie!"

"WE'RE HAVING PIE!"

"And don't forget to gel your hair! You know you look sexy when you do that!"

Draco decided to ignore the fact that his mother was saying that. Instead, he focused on his hair gel.

"My hair gel!"

He grabbed his bottle of hair gel, and ran back into his bathroom, trying to think of what he should do to his hair to make it have its sexy gelledness back to his.

Once efficiently in the loo, he looked at himself in the mirror.

Draco screamed.

"Argh! Help! There is a strange, ugly boy in my loo with ugly, ugly hair! House-Elf Shirley!" he shrieked, before falling to the floor, writhing.

In a matter of seconds, the same House-Elf who kicked him—uh—_there— _appeared.

"What is it, you naughty boy?" asked the House-Elf, a large box in her hands.

Draco pointed to the mirror.

"There! It's there! He's so ugly!" Draco sobbed in distress.

"Get up, you naughty boy!"

Draco complied.

House-Elf Shirley took one look at the mirror, and she then took another look at Draco.

"You naughty, naughty boy! You call me into your depressingly girlish room for this? I was feeding Moo-Moo!" Shirley then grabbed his collar and dragged him up, shoved him in front of the mirror, and laughed.

"YOU are the ugly boy with depressingly ugly hair!"

Draco was on the verge of hysterics. He was actually convulsing; his hand seemed to twitch more.

"It's not me... I _know_ that it isn't me!" Draco whimpered, backing into a wall. "It can't be... it's so _horrid_... I can't... but _why_...?" Draco murmured to himself, before he did something that only happened on Draco-Looks-Bad days.

He screamed like the nut he was.

This seemed to only amuse Shirley farther, seeing as she started laughing maniacly. She brought her hands to her chest and started spazzing them like a hyena would.

Draco's parents though, Lucius and Narcissa, didn't seem to think that Draco screaming like a girl was something to laugh about; his appearance must have been _really_ bad for him to scream like that.

The two parents in question came running into the room (their didn't seem to be a door to bang open,) looking wildly around. Clothes covered nearly every inch of the floor and bed, making the room look more like their broom closets (that not even the House-Elves went into) than anything else.

"Draco! Draco, what is it?" Narcissa screeched, searching frantically into little nooks such as the laundry basket and wardrobes and odd little bags that just seemed to be there.

"Narcissa," Lucius drawled, sounding bored. "I highly doubt that he is going to be in a Persian handbag."

"Well, he could be! You never know with Draco! And remember, Draco has good taste!"

Lucius nodded, agreeing. "Still, I don't think that he will be in a Persian handbag," he told her, waving his arms lazily toward the bag that Narcissa was going through.

"I'm in here!" Draco wailed, now on the floor.

"Draco, you sound like my Aunt Lui Lui—she always whined because her muffins were never shaped perfectly." This only caused Draco to cry louder.

"And she was never happy... Surely you can't be so ugly as too actually _cry_?" Lucius called to Draco.

"Come into the bathroom! I'm horrendous!"

"Oh, honey, surely it's not_ that _bad?" asked Narcissa, pushing open the bathroom door.

_Thud!_

Narcissa had fainted.

Lucius wasn't doing much better; he had jumped back into the wall.

"_Shit!_ Draco, don't _do_ that again! I haven't gotten drunk yet, that isn't funny!"

Draco tried to say something, but his hollow breathing made his talk a simple jumble of sounds.

"Speak clearly to me, Draco!" Lucius demanded.

"It _mumble mumble_ joke!"

"I know it's a joke! What I'm telling you is to take down the spell_ now!_"

"It's not a spell!"

Lucius raised an eyebrow.

"But you're a Malfoy," he told Draco, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "Malfoy's have better hair than that _horror_ that is currently sitting on top of your bald head!"

Draco looked up.

"But I'm not bald! And this _is_ my hair!" Draco said, getting up from his place on the floor.

Lucius smirked before coming forward towards Draco.

"Yes it is," he said simply, before he started pulling on Draco's hair.

Draco seemed.

Lucius jumped back into the wall again.

"Bless my heart-spotted knickers," Lucius whispered in horror. "It _is_ real!"

Just then the doorbell sounded throughout the house.

"NO!" Lucius screamed, ran to the door, and screamed again.

"They're here!" Lucius said, in a tone that suggested that even the concept of "them" being there was horrible.

Lucius then got a clue.

"Aha!" Lucius triumphantly screamed. He ran over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of Floo Powder.

"Draco, get in!" Lucius demanded.

"But... what about the party?"

"Screw the party, _get in!"_

"Fine!"

Draco walked over the fire, and received an impatient kick to the bum by his father.

Lucius then threw in the Floo powder.

"Hogwarts!"

The last thing that Draco saw before falling onto a cold hard stone floor was Shirley the House-Elf laughing her elephant ears off.

End Chapter 2.

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